


Fire and Snow

by iola17



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Blow Jobs, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hand Jobs, M/M, Romance, Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:34:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21790891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iola17/pseuds/iola17
Summary: When a snowstorm hits Schitt's Creek, David is very excited to spend it snuggled up with the man he loves in their new home. Unfortunately, Patrick has other things on his mind.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 90
Kudos: 268
Collections: Schitt's Creek Open Fic Night 2.0





	Fire and Snow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dr_Martha_Jones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Martha_Jones/gifts).



> Written for the excellent prompt from Dr_Martha_Jones for OFN: "It is the first snowstorm since David and Patrick have moved into their house. One of them is worried about the store/house/weather, the other thinks it is very sexy and romantic."
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

David Rose is used to the snow.

He has spent many winters hurrying along the streets of New York, a more fashionable than functional scarf pulled up above his ears, grumbling under his breath about the icy puddles while deftly navigating the gawping tourists standing in the shadow of the Empire State building.

He’s cursed the gridlocked traffic while trudging through the freezing slush along Bethesda Terrace on his way to this party or that on the Upper West Side, while trying to ignore the twinge in his chest when he spotted the couples taking selfies with the fountain amid the drifting flakes.

He’s watched delicate ice crystals forming on the surface of the slow-moving Hudson and determinedly _not_ watched the paired-up ice skaters clinging together to keep from falling at the Rockefeller Centre.

He’s stood at his loft window, watching the crisp white snow gather in piles on the rooftops or flutter down to land on the shoulders of the milling crowds below, all while he remains high above it all.

Everywhere he’s ever lived for longer than a couple of months has had some form of snowfall in winter and if he’s honest, David rather likes the needling bite of his fingers regaining some of their heat after coming in from the chill. He likes to watch the sky turn white and enjoys the feeling of the hush that falls just before the snow does.

As David was growing up, his family were never ones for outdoor activities. The one and only snowball fight his family ever attempted was aborted because it turns out Moira is the Rose with the best aim and she gave up after four snowballs, concerned about the effect the cold would have on her skin. Seven-year-old David had fallen on the icy pathway and Johnny had started talking about optimum snowball density, continuing long after his family had stopped listening. When four-year-old Alexis had begun crying because snow had gotten inside her mittens and her hands were cold, they’d given up and gone inside.

Years later, Adelina had tried to spread her love of winter by coaxing David and Alexis outside to build a snowman. Too self-conscious to abandon themselves to an activity they, in their teens, already deemed too childlike, they’d complained and stamped their feet for warmth the whole time. Adelina had persevered even after Alexis had disappeared to her bedroom to call a friend and David had retreated to the cosy sitting room facing the garden. He had been unwilling, in the way that teenagers sometimes are, to be seen to be having too much fun but still he had watched as Adelina placed the finishing touches on her snowman. She had been meticulous, smoothing out the snow, carefully gauging the centre of the snowman’s face before committing herself to placing that stone for the nose, taking care over wrapping the scarf securely around its neck before finally stepping back to admire her creation.

David had waited until she’d returned to the house before he went out with one of his father’s hats to place on the round head (he briefly considered using one of his mother’s beloved wigs but even in the midst of the consciously apathetic stage of his mid-teens recognised that as a step too far.)

He’d stayed outside in the gathering darkness, walking in wide circles on the lawn, feeling the crunch and give of the snow beneath his feet as the cold air nipped and numbed his skin. It was long after the sun had set and he could no longer feel his toes that he turned his back on Adelina’s snowman, now ringed by his entrenched footprints, and returned indoors, ignoring the Rose Video logoed doormat in favour of stamping the snow off his shoes onto the parquet flooring.

So, David is no stranger to snow.

What he _is_ a stranger to is the other side of it. Being one of those couples in the parks strolling through the frozen landscape, clutching someone’s hand tight in his own. Laughing breathlessly as he loops around the outdoor rink, cheeks flushed and nose numb by the side of someone who loves him. Having someone to sit beside him as they watch the snow fall through the window. He’s never had any of that.

He’s never had someone like Patrick to curl up with, safe, warm and cosy in their own home.

They’ve seen three winters as a couple, and this is not the first time they’ve been together for the night while it was snowing but it is the first time since they’ve been engaged, the first heavy snowstorm in _their_ new house.

The possibilities of it sends excitement fizzing through David’s whole body. He doesn’t have to pretend anymore that he doesn’t want it, that the sight of those joyful couples enjoying the chill while secure in the knowledge that they’d be cosied up together later didn’t pinch at his envious heart even as he turned his face resolutely away.

But now he has it too.

David hums happily to himself as he opens the cedar chest that now stands at the foot of his and Patrick’s bed and grabs a couple of blankets and a Sherpa fleece throw. He tucks them under his arm as he closes the heavy lid before seizing the duvet off the bed and dragging that with him as well as he leaves the bedroom.

It’s not so easy to transport a collection of thick blankets and a double duvet down the stairs at once so David ends up leaving the duvet on the landing, carrying the blankets and fleece down first to spread them over the couch before heading back to the second storey.

On the second trip down the stairs, this time cradling the soft, bulky weight of their winter duvet, David catches sight of the snow through the window at the foot of the stairs and smiles, heart jumping in excitement he would not have admitted to five years ago.

His mind fills with the image he’s been entertaining since the snow started midmorning, the one of himself and Patrick snuggled up on their comfortable couch in front of the fireplace, cosy in their nest of blankets, exchanging kisses and caresses, the shrinking space between their bodies heating up…

David shivers with delight as he drops the duvet on top of the blankets and hurries off to the kitchen.

Wine. They need wine.

David hums a half-tune of no song in particular to himself as he passes the dining room and, glancing in, spots Patrick pulling back the curtain at the window to peer through. Backlit by the soft light from the moonlight bouncing off the settled snow outside, the shadows of the falling flakes spread across his beautiful face and David’s steps falter as his heart clenches, so overwhelmed with love that it steals his breath.

Over time, the breathless exhilaration of early love has deepened, transformed into something else, a steady foundation that David didn’t know how much he had been craving throughout his nebulous romantic history. Patrick’s love is reliable, a constant thread weaving through David’s life now.

David should have known, though, from watching his parents, that that steadiness was only one aspect of what love was. He’ll catch glimpses of his rapt father, just staring at his mother as she adjusts a wig on her hair, or see Moira’s look, softer than any she ever gave anyone else, when Johnny toasted her on closing night of Cabaret.

Fresh quakes of overpowering love can still hit unexpectedly, even in the most established of relationships, catapulting back to the early days when hearts stuttered and palms sweated and everything was both terrifying and utterly thrilling.

Patrick stills sweeps David away in the waves that feel like the beginning of love with alarming regularity. When David spots him brushing an affectionate hand over one of David’s folded sweaters, smoothing out non-existent creases; when he sets his own alarm half an hour earlier to have the first shower, allowing David to sleep a little longer; when he says something he thinks is particularly clever in that teasing tone of his, glancing mischievously at David to gauge his reaction.

But there’s been no teasing all afternoon. Patrick’s been quiet, brow pinched as he stared at the deepening snow and, in quite the departure from his normal attitude, suggested closing the store half an hour early so they could get home before the weather got worse.

It was a good thing too- it seemed like the moment David had pushed open the door to their two-storey duplex on the outskirts of town and stepped back so Patrick, clutching their takeout bag from the café, could enter ahead of him, the snow had thickened and the wind had picked up. Patrick had been distracted throughout their meal; casting side looks out of the window every so often with his brow furrowed. After they’d cleaned up, he had disappeared into their home office for a few minutes before gravitating back to the dining room window where he was now alternating between staring through the glass and scrolling through his phone.

David shakes himself out of his staring and heads on to the kitchen for the wine and glasses. No matter what’s bothering Patrick, they could both benefit from a cosy night in David’s freshly prepared blanket cocoon. They can talk about whatever’s on Patrick’s mind and the new stationery range in the store and what colour scheme they’re going to go for when they finally get around to decorating the room next to the bathroom upstairs. They can talk about anything they want because this is their life and they have forever.

And then, maybe they’ll stop talking for a while.

David grins to himself as he carries the wine back through to the sitting room and sets the glasses, corkscrew and bottle of Pinot Noir on the table.

Stepping back he surveys the scene, thinking. He dims the overhead light before grabbing the remote control from the coffee table and switching on the electric fire. (Okay, so they couldn’t find anything with a real fireplace, but the electric one they chose together is beautiful and elegant with its glossy white surround and tasteful pebble bed.)

The moment David presses the button, flickering light casts jittery shadows across the space and he sighs contentedly. It looks like a scene from a movie.

Briefly he considers the possibility that he’s going overboard but dismisses the thought. David’s never had the chance to have this kind of night this with anyone. He wants the movie scene. He wants the firelight and the falling snow and the sound of the wind through the trees outside while he’s cuddled up with the man he loves.

Besides, David loves when he can show Patrick that he’s not the only one who can do romance. The joy and devotion that shine from Patrick’s face when David is the one coming through with a romantic gesture is something David will have imprinted in his mind until his dying day.

It’s breath-taking, that look. Overwhelming and completely addictive.

David’s gaze moves over to the curtains and his lips purse. One last thing.

Rounding the sofa, he moves to the window, parting the material just enough to see the falling snow outside. They’re far enough back from the road that he isn’t worried about anyone being able to see in without coming up the path and standing in the garden and the sight of the whirling flakes outside adds to the warm, intimate atmosphere indoors.

David steps back and smiles. There. Now there really is just one thing missing.

David pulls the door closed as he leaves to find Patrick. Hopefully this way Patrick won’t be able to see the firelight until he’s almost in the doorway and David wants it to be as much of a surprise as possible. David didn’t think he’d be able to get the duvet down the stairs without Patrick noticing but he’s been so distracted…

When David gets to the dining room, Patrick is still in the window. It’s fully dark outside, but Patrick’s handsome features are visible in the harsh white light of his phone, eyes moving as he reads the screen.

“Anything interesting?” David asks, sidling in and leaning against the wall. A smile tugs at his lips and he fights to keep the glee from his face. He can’t wait until Patrick sees, can’t wait until they’re wrapped up together. He just _knows_ Patrick is going to love it.

The light switch is by his elbow and David reaches to turn it on. He wants to see Patrick’s face more clearly, wants to see his expression when he realises David has something planned.

Patrick casts a preoccupied half-smile in David’s direction before returning his attention to the phone in his hand.

“Do you remember what the surveyor said about ice dams?”

_What?_

David does not, in fact, remember what the surveyor had said about ice dams.

He’s fairly certain he could tell you nothing at all about the findings of the house survey because he’d been focused on the black granite worktops and walk-in closet. That, and Patrick taking the first opportunity when the surveyor was out of earshot to whisper his intention of having David on every flat surface as soon as they moved in, his voice low and rough in a way that went straight to David’s dick. Just how was David supposed to concentrate after _that?_

“No,” David replies after a few seconds, blinking away memories of just how thoroughly Patrick had made good on his promise. They’d closed the store for the weekend, ostensibly so they could finish the move, and David was still a little surprised either of them had been able to rouse themselves from their sex-coma the following Monday morning to reopen.

Patrick’s eyes are back on his phone, muttering to himself as he reads the information displayed there.

“I don’t know. Ice belts? Does that sound familiar?”

He looks up at David hopefully and David feels his forehead wrinkle as he tries to cast his mind back. It doesn’t ring a bell with him but he’s sure that one of them would remember if the inspection had thrown up issues with the roof.

When he says as much, trying to dispel Patrick’s worries so they can relax and enjoy the rest of the evening, Patrick nods but doesn’t seem to be taking in his words. At that moment, the wind changes direction and hurls snow and hail directly against the window, startling in its strength, and the volume of the drumming on the glass makes David jump. Just a little.

“We should have got the insulation checked out again before winter. I don’t know if the insurance will be difficult about that if we claim for any damage.” Patrick sucks his lips into his mouth, frown lines on his forehead deepening.

David folds his arms, images of fireside cuddles dimming as he takes in his fiancé’s anxious face and the fingers clenching too tightly on Patrick’s phone.

“Isn’t it on our copy of the insurance paperwork?”

Patrick shakes his head. “I can’t find it. I thought they’d emailed it, but it’s not in my inbox.” He glances over at David. “Did we give them your email?”

David’s lips twist to the side as he considers. It seems wildly unlikely. They both know that Patrick is the one that keeps their paperwork and documents together and, more often than not, if it’s something to do with them as a couple, they give Patrick’s personal email as a contact so he can keep everything together. The store business dealings go to the Rose Apothecary email and David’s... well, in recent years David’s email account has mainly become a dumping ground for offers from takeaway places, lifestyle articles he’s forwarded to himself to ‘look at later’, and newsletters from sites he doesn’t remember signing up to but which don’t bother him enough for him to go through the hassle of unsubscribing.

Considering all this, it’s a stretch to think they’d have sent the insurance paperwork to David to get lost in the vortex of mass-marketing bulletins rather than Patrick’s ordered arrangement of emails flagged for follow up and categorised subfolders.

He shakes his head and Patrick sighs, worry plain on his face.

“The hard copy of the agreement isn’t where it should be in the desk upstairs either,” Patrick says. “I think it must have got caught up in the store paperwork.”

He breaks off and looks out the window, at the icy slush streaking down the pane, disappearing below the ledge only to be replaced the next moment by another barrage of sleet striking the glass. David knows that look.

“You can’t go back out,” he says immediately. “The snow’s too heavy.”

“It might be good to check on the store. Turn the taps on a little so the pipes don’t freeze.” Patrick looks at his watch. “I can be back here in half an hour.”

David shakes his head, trying to dispel the creeping panic digging its fingers into his brain.

Patrick could make it there, find the paperwork, and get back in thirty minutes _if_ there was no traffic, _if_ the roads were clear of ice, _if_ it wasn’t the middle of a fucking blizzard. With the weather the way it is, Patrick wouldn’t get to the end of the street in thirty minutes. And if he did, there’s no guarantee he could make it to the store.

He could get hurt. Stark fear robs David’s breath, numbing his fingertips and settling cold in his stomach. No. Patrick can’t get hurt. He’s too important. David won’t allow it.

“No,” David says around a tongue that seems to have forgotten how to form words. “No. Stay.”

His brain scrambles, hindered by dread and desperate for the magic sequence of words to make Patrick abandon this insane idea and remain with him, safe and protected by sturdy brick walls.

“I can make it,” Patrick replies and then, worryingly, starts patting his pockets, feeling for his keys.

This is not the romantic night David had planned. This is turning into the exact opposite of what he’d hoped for, romance-wise.

His chest tightens and he crosses the room in four steps to stop Patrick’s hand from digging into his deep pockets.

“Patrick, _no_. You’re not risking it.” David’s voice pitches higher as horror ripples through his gut. “ _Please._ You can’t.”

“David, I’ll be right back. You won’t even notice I’ve gone before I’m back,” Patrick says and pushes his phone into his pocket, eyes skittering away from David to scan the sideboard, the table, anywhere he might have left his keys.

David can’t breathe. “Don’t go. You can’t drive in this.”

The hand that’s not clutching onto Patrick’s muscled forearm shoots out to indicate the window, the flurries falling past the pane, now so thick the small star magnolia tree is just a faint shadow at the foot of the garden. The wind batters the glass in the frame as if to punctuate his point and- holy fuck, David didn’t know you could get hailstones that size. He swallows before plowing on.

“It’s dangerous! There’s no way you’d let _me_ go,” David continues desperately and it is this that finally seems to get through to Patrick. He stops and follows David’s pointing finger, staring at the storm outside before bringing his attention back to David’s pleading gaze. Something shifts in his caramel eyes and he nods slowly.

Anxiety still clogging his airways, David needs to hear him say it.

“You won’t go out in this? You’ll stay here with me?”

Patrick nods again. “Yes. You’re right, it’s a bad idea. We’ll stay here.”

David lets out a shuddery breath and his vice-like grip on Patrick’s arm eases off without letting go. There’s still that concerned look on Patrick’s face but at least he isn’t about to rush off into a blizzard.

Patrick’s eyes wander to the weather outside again and he sighs heavily before bringing a hand to his forehead and roughly rubbing at the skin.

“We must be insured for snow damage.” Resigned now to staying indoors, Patrick sounds like he’s trying to convince himself, to calm his own apprehensions. “I’d expect to be, living round here, but I’d feel better if I could remember exactly what we’re covered for.”

David’s nods slowly, breathing easier now he has Patrick’s reassurance of staying, but wishing he could set Patrick’s mind at rest about the insurance. Truth is, he doesn’t remember the ins and outs of it either.

This is their home. Their first home together and he can see why Patrick is nervous about it but, David thinks, they can’t control the weather and they were bound to face this kind of storm eventually.

They’d chosen the policy together, but Patrick had been the one to whittle down the options using a complicated criteria of coverage types, charges and add-ons that only he really understood before presenting the options to David (there had literally been a PowerPoint presentation involved. If David hadn’t already known how much he adored this man, his… _enthusiastic_ reaction to the extensive bullet-point lists and variety of slide transitions Patrick used in an attempt to keep David’s attention would have clued him in.)

David knows that between them they would have chosen the policy with the best coverage, but while neither of them remembers exactly what that coverage _is,_ Patrick’s worry is understandable.

It’s not like they can do anything to change what they’re covered for _now,_ but if it helps Patrick feel better...

David exhales, bidding goodbye to his own plans for the evening before leaning in to kiss Patrick gently on the forehead, moving his hands to curl around Patrick’s upper arms. “Okay,” he murmurs against Patrick’s soft skin before drawing back.

“We can’t go to the store,” he starts. “So aside from there and the desk in the office, can you think of any other places the paperwork might be?”

Patrick’s gives a tiny shrug as he bites his lip, considering. “Not really. I’m sure I’d have filed it.” David is too, but on the off chance…

“How about I start in the kitchen - I think there’s still some mail in the drawer near the toaster that needs going through – and you can see if the insurance company has an out of hours number?”

Patrick nods and pulls out of David’s arms, digging his hand into his pocket for his cell once more. “Okay. Yes, I’ll have a look.”

David reaches out to give one comforting squeeze to Patrick’s bicep and leaves him there, typing the insurance company’s name into the search engine while David heads into the kitchen. With a flick of the light switch, the eight spotlights arranged on two horizontal chrome bars light up, illuminating the worktops David fell in love with and their newly laid slate flooring.

He sighs as he pads across the space, averting his eyes from the thick, tumbling snow outside as he opens the drawer to the left of the one housing the cutlery. Moving aside the loose batteries and spare charger cables, David picks up the small pile of opened letters awaiting sorting and settles himself back against the countertop, crossing one leg over the other as he prepares to look through the collection.

There’re only seven or eight envelopes. The majority of them are invitations to business seminars that Patrick’s interested in, there’s also a recent electric bill and a ‘Save The Date’ for Patrick’s cousin Beth’s wedding next summer but no insurance document.

David stuffs the last conference information leaflet back into its envelope (‘ _Dare to Be Different- Creating a USP for your Brand_ ’) and straightens, arching his back to stretch it out as he considers where else he could look.

Directly overhead is their home office and as he stands still, David hears the floorboards shift and creak, and the faint rumble of a drawer on the rollers. It sounds like Patrick is searching upstairs again and David heads back out to the hallway, shivering a little as the cold slate of the kitchen floor seeps through his socks into his feet.

He turns off the light and walks down the darkened hallway towards the living room, where the faint glow of the firelight escapes underneath the door and fans out across the wooden floor of the hall.

Pushing open the door, David halts as he sees his firelit nest of blankets and the unopened bottle of wine beside the glasses on the small side table to the left of the couch. The glow of the electric fire catches on the wine bottle, dancing across the smooth surface. The fire’s done its job nicely; the room is cosy and a welcome change from the chill of the hallway.

In his mind’s eye, David can see himself and Patrick talking together, side by side beneath the blankets, wine glasses in hand and he sighs.

There’s always another time, he supposes.

He twists the dimmer switch, brightening the room once more, before moving to the sideboard and opening the top drawer, pulling out the small bundle of mail he’s left there (okay, so maybe David doesn’t always stick to the ‘keeping unsorted mail in one place’ rule; if he’s too comfortable to leave the living room to go and put it into the kitchen drawer, he’ll leave a couple of bills in the sideboard for a day or two. Maybe three. Certainly no longer than a week.)

Turning away, David pushes the drawer closed with his hip and carries the letters over to the couch, dropping them on the table beside the wine glasses before grabbing the corkscrew.

He opens the bottle, pours himself a glass of wine and takes a sip, relishing the warmth of the liquid sliding down his throat. He puts the glass down for a moment so he can push the duvet, blankets and fleece over to the side of the couch to make room before settling himself. Retrieving his glass of wine, David pulls the pile of mail from the table onto his lap and bends his head to inspect them.

The first in the pile is a reminder letter from David’s dentist, inviting him to make an appointment – that would be a no, thank you - and he shuffles it to the back of the heap before taking another sip of wine.

Next up is a letter from the tax office, and a quick glance inside the envelope reveals it is a list of dates for tax return submissions. Hesitating, David removes it from the pile and places it back on the side table. That one really should be kept safe.

He turns his attention to the next. Addressed to the homeowners, ‘Crystal Clear Glass’ is offering them a deal if they replace all their windows, and with a huff David moves it to the back of the pile. Quickly, David scans the rest. A takeaway menu from the new pizza place in Elmdale, a bank statement from their business account (that goes on top of the letter from the tax office to be kept safe), and a catalogue for the Australian-originated Blouse Barn, apparently doing very well in this hemisphere as well, although David’s unsure how he and Patrick ended up on their mailing list.

No insurance documents.

David sets the mail down on the floor and leans back, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling as he wonders where he could look next. Absent-mindedly his free hand comes out to stroke the blanket on top of the heap at his side, fingertips sliding across the soft wool as he tries to remember if he’s ever even _seen_ the document in question.

“David?” Patrick’s faint voice comes from the doorway. He sounds a little hoarse and David wonders if he’s coming down with something. Twyla had been sent home from the café with the flu a few days before and who knows how many people she’d unwittingly infected before she’d started showing symptoms.

“Are you okay?” David asks, bringing his head down to look over at his fiancé from his spot on the sofa.

Patrick is frozen in the entrance to the room, eyes darting around, taking in the blankets, the open wine bottle, the glass in David’s hand and the one still standing on the table.

Ah.

David looks down, fingers shifting on the stem of his glass. Maybe he should have tidied up a bit before Patrick saw.

“Don’t worry. I’ll put it all back in a minute.” David clears his throat, self-consciousness settling around his shoulders like a physical weight, pressing down on him. Moments like this are few and far between these days, but still he shifts diffidently as he sees it through Patrick’s eyes, knowing that keen mind is picking up on the dream-like fantasy David had been planning for the evening while Patrick was panicking about responsible things.

David takes another sip of wine, free hand picking at the blanket beside him. It’s the brown one with white spots that Patrick’s had for years, but it’s only got softer with age and it’s turned into David’s favourite one to curl up underneath, particularly when Patrick’s away at a conference or out with friends. Over the years Patrick’s scent has seeped into the fibres and when David presses the edge to his face, closes his eyes and breathes in, it’s like burying his face against Patrick’s shoulder or in the crook of his neck.

David’s restless fingers toy with the white thread fringe, rolling the strands between his fingers as his face heats up. Suddenly the fire is too hot and he doesn’t know where to look when Patrick is silent and has still not taken even a single step into the room.

After several long moments, Patrick exhales, just audible over the sound of the wind outside.

“ _David…_ ”

David’s eyes shoot up at the gentle tone and meet Patrick’s, who finally moves forward into the living room. His warm eyes are shining in the firelight and the smile that takes over his face is luminous as he looks at David like _Patrick’s_ the one who lucked out in this relationship.

Instantly, David bats down that encroaching wave of self-doubt. Patrick has made it abundantly clear how he feels about David, most memorably while kneeling down on the top of Rattlesnake Point but in a thousand little ways every day. Whenever he gets David’s complicated coffee order correct, or whenever he wordlessly removes a spider from the store or their home, or whenever that fond light shines out of his eyes when David gets passionate about a new product in the store.

David knows that Patrick loves him. That Patrick wants him for the rest of their lives.

David doesn’t want his own insecurities to poison it, so he’s been working to quiet that sneaking voice in the back of his mind that whispers to him now and then, telling him that he doesn’t deserve this and Patrick will realise it sometime soon.

He deserves this. They both do.

Patrick’s still looking at him like he can’t believe someone like David Rose exists and David feels the flush creeping down his neck, beneath the collar of his sweater.

“It’s really not- it’s just some blankets.”

Compared to a public serenade and a mountaintop picnic and four beautiful, shiny rings of gold to promise forever, a night by the fireside is so small but Patrick shakes his head.

“You planned this for us?” Patrick’s voice is soft.

David huffs a self-effacing half-laugh, the feeling of _not-good-enough_ never an easy one to shake. “Didn’t take much planning. Everything was already here. I just thought… I thought it might be nice with the snow.”

“It is,” Patrick agrees quickly, and David watches as his fiancé’s eyes scan the room again, smiling at the sight before him before his gaze snags on the pile of mail resting on the floor at David’s feet.

David grimaces. “Sorry,” he says. “I couldn’t find the paperwork. Did you get hold of the insurance people?”

“No.” Patrick stares, unseeing, at the mail for a moment before pulling his eyes back to David. “There isn’t an out of office hours number.”

David opens his mouth but Patrick cuts him off with a shake of the head. He takes another step into the room, pushing the door closed behind him and meets David’s eyes with a soft smile.

David moves to stand but Patrick halts him with a hand raised, palm out.

“No, don’t get up. Please,” he says, and gropes for the dimmer switch, eyes still fixed on David.

A wide smile spreads over David’s face as warmth curls through his chest at the affectionate look in Patrick’s eyes. After a couple of seconds, Patrick finds the switch and the lights lower. Something stirs low in David’s stomach, pulse jumping in instinctive response when Patrick walks towards him like that, eyes focused and steps purposeful.

Patrick stops by the side table, uncorking the wine and tops David’s glass up before pouring his own drink, muscles bunching in his forearm as he tilts the bottle. The deep burgundy liquid glints in the firelight as it splashes up the side of the glass before it settles and, sitting as close as he is, the faint earthy scent of the wine fills David’s nose. He breathes in deeply, and there’s Patrick’s distinctive scent as well, his spicy, sandalwood cologne mixing with the wine and ten times more intoxicating.

“It’s okay, David,” Patrick breaks the silence. “The insurance can wait until morning. Not like we can do anything about it now.”

David swallows. “I’m sorry we can’t get to the store to search.”

“As talented as you are in many areas, I think taking credit for the snowstorm is a stretch,” Patrick says, and David is pleased to note the teasing tone sneaking back into Patrick’s words. This gentle playfulness is their such an integral part of their relationship and it never fails to spread tendrils of joy through David’s chest.

Still keen to reassure Patrick, to assuage the last of the concern weighing on him, David presses on, “But I think- I think your research was pretty thorough.” _To say the least._ “We’re probably well covered. Which I know might not help you stop worrying now, but first thing in the morning we’ll find the paperwork or call the company or-”

“David,” Patrick interrupts, picking up his glass. “I just… Thank you, but can we talk about something else? I’m trying to come to terms with the idea that I can’t fix this right now and I want to appreciate this beautiful thing you’ve done for us.”

As he talks, he’s arranging the blankets. One-handed, he pushes the bulky duvet to the floor before settling himself at David’s side and, with David’s help, covering them both with the dual layers of the two remaining blankets. The fleece is pushed to the arm of the sofa, ready to be pulled into service if the temperature drops any further.

He leans in to kiss David’s temple, smiling against the skin. “Thank you. We can deal with everything else tomorrow. I can wait.”

David makes a noncommittal sound deep in his throat and smiles to himself, mind instantly recalling multiple occasions which would prove the contrary. Mouth suddenly arid at the memory of a _very_ impatient Patrick a week earlier, waiting just inside the door as David arrived home from an evening appointment with a supplier, David takes a sip of wine, trying to school his expression behind the rim of his glass.

“For some things,” Patrick adds, a smirk evident in his own tone. “Other things I can’t always wait for. It’s not healthy to deny yourself all the time.” Suggestiveness is creeping into his tone, lacing through his words and David inhales shakily, already starting to be affected, body conditioned to respond to the hint in Patrick’s words.

“But there is something to be said for restraint,” David says, striving for casual despite the uptick in his heartrate.

“Oh, I know,” Patrick murmurs, pitching his voice low and something tugs in David’s stomach.

David swallows before continuing, eager to enjoy this, to prolong the moments where Patrick is distracted from his worries. And if that distraction comes in the form of this easy flirting and David having Patrick’s focus squarely on him, he’s more than okay with that. “I think we need a balance.”

Patrick turns in his seat, resting his elbow on the back of the couch to more fully face David, light dancing across his beautiful face as he smirks at David.

“A balance?” Patrick questions, eyebrow rising towards his hairline as he rests his head on his free hand, propped up on the back of the couch.

David nods, heart picking up pace when Patrick adjusts his position, edging closer.

“Yeah,” David whispers softly, lulled to quietness by the firelight and the simple intimacy of the two of them, side by side under their piles of blankets. Patrick smiles at him and bends forward, tilting his mouth away from David’s own at the last second to fit his lips into the crook of David’s neck. David gasps when the slightly chilly tip of Patrick’s nose meets his throat.

David shivers when Patrick’s lips find a sensitive spot under his jaw, sucking the skin into his mouth and letting his teeth graze gently across David’s throat. David angles his head as Patrick’s lips caress his neck, relishing the tingles spreading throughout his body from that one spot. He swallows, clenching his eyes shut.

“Finding a balance,” he says faintly as Patrick kisses up towards his ear. “Between restraint and- _ah_ ,” he breaks off when Patrick’s teeth close around his earlobe and pull gently. “And not denying-” His words stick in his throat again when Patrick releases his ear and drags his tongue down David’s neck.

“Mmm?” Patrick hums against his skin, somehow managing to make the faint questioning noise sound smug, and it vibrates deliciously along the line of David’s neck.

David gropes blindly for the table at his side, hurriedly setting down his wine glass so he can get both hands free and on Patrick as soon as fucking possible. He has just set down the glass when Patrick pulls away suddenly.

“What are you doing?” David demands, and if he’s embarrassingly breathless, it’s soothed by the fact that he can see Patrick’s hands shaking as he lifts his wine glass, still in his hand, to his lips.

Patrick, teasing, infuriating, wonderful Patrick, takes his time, savouring the wine before he replies.

“Exercising restraint.”

David snorts a laugh and rolls his eyes, equal parts amused and turned on when Patrick throws a sly grin his way, amusement glittering in his eyes. David is gratified to see unconcealed desire there too, Patrick’s gaze hot as he takes David in.

“Mmm, you sure you wanna do that?” David asks as his hand drifts over, coming to rest just above Patrick’s knee over the blanket.

Patrick’s eyes glance down to take it in, David’s gold-ringed fingers stroking back and forth over the fluffy material covering his leg and seems transfixed for a moment, stilling as he watches David’s fingers, a gentle smile curling the edges of his lips. He gets like this, now and then, preoccupied by the light glinting off the bands adorning David’s hand and David adores the look of wonder that creeps over Patrick’s face so much that he never disrupts Patrick’s reverie.

A few moments later Patrick shakes himself out of his trance with a shuddery laugh.

“Not sure, no.”

He takes another sip- more of a gulp, really- of wine and David grins as he squeezes Patrick’s leg briefly before removing his hand. Patrick makes a vague noise in protest, grumbling in the back of his throat, but David ignores it, reaching over to retrieve his wine.

“You’re right,” he says, shit-eating grin firmly in place. “A time for everything.”

Patrick huffs beside him, playing along, and David feels all the joy of _them_ press against his ribs from the inside. For all the wild parties, weekends spent spread out on high thread count sheets and streams of socialites looking to advance in the world using the advantages David Rose possessed, he’s never had a relationship be this _fun_ before.

Flooded with love, he adjusts the blanket across their knees (and if he shuffles closer into Patrick’s side in the process, so be it) and his ears tune into the hushed sound of the fireplace as it heats the room.

Outside, the wind kicks up a notch and Patrick’s head turns at the sound of the hail and snow striking the glass. David stares at the side of Patrick’s face as Patrick takes in the sight of the storm through the small gap in the curtains, the remnants of worry still lingering about his eyes.

David clears his throat. “Sorry. Do you want me to- I can close the curtains.”

He makes a move to get up but Patrick stills him with a hand on his leg, gaze still turned to the window.

“I loved the snow when I was a kid you know,” Patrick says after another moment. “Did you ever play the dragon game?”

He tears his attention from the snow outside to focus back on David, curiosity written on his face.

“No,” David says softly. “What’s that?”

“I used to love it. You know when it’s cold and you breathe out and it kind of goes all misty, I pretended it was smoke. I chased my cousins around the garden breathing fire at them.” His gaze is far away as he focuses on the past. David loves this, loves getting glimpses of Patrick’s life and waits breathlessly to see if Patrick will say more.

“Jamie used to pretend to be a wizard instead, breathing out magic spells,” Patrick laughs as he recalls. “You really never played in the snow like that?”

"No," David says but his mind is filled with it, with the image of this precious man as a curly-haired child, darting about the yard in the snow with his cousin, heavily exhaling thick clouds of his own breath, roaring playfully as he imagines flying high overhead.

David wonders if Marcy has any photographs of Patrick playing this particular game. It’s possible- David’s been treated to her family albums on several occasions, much to his delight and Patrick’s obligatory eye-rolling (he doesn’t fool David, David’s seen the way Patrick hides a smile when David questions the story behind every image, hungry for everything there is to learn.)

David will always be thankful for Marcy Brewer’s dedication to thoroughly documenting the life of her beloved son, from bubble-bath-bearded infant, through rosy-cheeked-childhood and hockey-mad teenage years and finally to the funny, self-assured man sharing his life with David.

David’s seen and delighted over Patrick at all ages, and still he wants more. He thinks he always will.

Making a mental note to ask Marcy about the dragon game the next time they speak on the phone, David grins at Patrick who shakes his head with a laugh. “Strange how things come back to you.”

He looks gleeful over the memories filling his head, happy and relaxed at David’s side, and David takes a couple of seconds to take a mental picture of him like this to go along with the thousands of others he has.

“Did you have any games you played in the winter?” Patrick asks. It’s on the tip of David’s tongue to say no when he spots the keen light in Patrick’s eyes and his attentive demeanour and he remembers- Patrick _wants_ to know these things about him too.

So he bats away that urge to dismiss his own experiences and tells him.

“We weren’t really… an outdoor family,” he starts, fingers shifting on his wine glass as Patrick watches him intently. “We had a snowball fight once and Adelina built a snowman but I mostly liked walking in it. I liked seeing the footsteps. I pretended I was on an expedition once, far away and I was the only one for miles…” He trails off, remembering that morning. He’d arisen before everyone else, roused by the instinctive internal alarm clock of a young child and his breath had caught when he’d seen the smooth expanse of snow from his window, clean and pure.

He still remembers that first step off the front porch onto the freshly fallen snow, the give of it beneath his weight, the peaceful calm of the winter morning. It felt like he’d walked for hours around the gardens, trekking across the quiet wilderness of the Antarctic in his mind, until the rest of his family had woken up and one of the many nannies who had come and gone before Adelina had called him in for breakfast.

He tells Patrick all about it and Patrick is silent throughout his story, enthralled eyes fixed on David’s face, soaking up all the details and David just knows Patrick is storing them safely away in the section of his mind reserved for just for David.

In the past it would have made him feel uncomfortably exposed. Now he just feels secure and seen and _loved_.

“Sounds peaceful,” Patrick says and David’s glad he sees it that way too, rather than focusing on the image of a lonely little boy trudging through the dawn snow. Looking back maybe he _was_ lonely but that particular memory is not an unhappy one for him.

David is lost in his thoughts, watching the orange firelight shining on the surface of the wine in his hand when he hears Patrick sigh and glances over.

Patrick has leaned his head back against the rear of the couch, neck extended and eyes closed as his face turns towards the ceiling. As David drinks in the sight, he can see the last of the tension has left Patrick’s shoulders and watches with pleasure when the soft lines of that beautiful mouth turn up.

Inhaling deeply, Patrick’s head rolls to the side so he is facing David when his deep brown eyes open wide. His gaze is loving and warm and so fucking _soft_ that David has to fight down the tears that threaten to prick at his own eyes at the sight.

“Thank you for this, David,” Patrick murmurs. “What made you think of this?”

David shrugs a single shoulder as he looks down at Patrick. “Like I said, I saw the snow and- I never had this before. Someone to curl up with in the warm…”

David can feel the flush heating his face as he trails off, unaccountably self-conscious. It’s not like Patrick doesn’t _know_ David’s pitiful dating history. It’s not like Patrick doesn’t _know_ how far removed those relationships were from what they have.

Patrick’s open face softens more at the admission and he gives David a reassuring smile, eyes boring into David’s own.

“Well then, David Rose, I am very happy to be your first snowstorm snuggle buddy.”

Oh, this man.

Patrick’s sincerity squeezes at David’s heart and his smile widens when David decisively replaces his wine glass on the table before reaching over and plucking Patrick’s from his unresisting grip to place that down as well.

He has to turn his eyes from Patrick to avoid spilling what is left in the glasses, but when he brings his eyes back to his fiancé, Patrick is right where he left him, relaxed and grinning, head turned towards David as it rests against the back of the sofa.

Perfect.

David leans down to press his lips against Patrick’s, delighting in the satisfied sound that rumbles in Patrick’s chest when he makes contact.

Patrick’s head is still resting on the back of the couch, tilted up to accept David’s kisses and slowly their gentle brushes of lips deepen until the soft sounds of their lips meeting is interspersed with heavier breathing and quiet murmurs of pleasure.

Patrick’s hand settles on David’s thigh and David smiles against his lips when those clever fingers begin to rub circles over the material. He can feel the warmth of Patrick’s fingertips through his pants and David’s own hand curls around the back of Patrick’s neck, holding him close as he takes Patrick’s lower lip between his own.

Patrick’s breath is hot against David’s lips and when he opens his mouth under David’s the taste of _Patrick_ is sharp and heady beneath the lingering traces of the earthy Pinot Noir.

Patrick sucks lightly on David’s tongue and David grunts, feeling his blood rush to his crotch and he shifts in his seat, trying to relieve some of the building pressure.

He tears himself from Patrick’s lips with a gasp when Patrick’s hand moves across David’s leg to his lap, giving his still mostly soft cock a gentle but definite squeeze through the material.

“What happened to restraint?” David manages as Patrick’s hand presses down on him.

“Yeah, I’m done with that,” Patrick whispers against his mouth. “I want you.”

David doesn’t have chance to respond before Patrick is kissing him again, fingers tracing the outline of David’s twitching dick. David exhales through his nose, revelling in the pressure of Patrick’s lips, his taste and the sensation of his tongue against his own.

Patrick’s hand is insistent, circling and stroking, and David’s response is instinctive, his body heating up under the onslaught of Patrick’s lips on his own and his eager hand on David’s swelling cock. David's starting to sweat and shake and Patrick is breathing happy, excited little murmurs into his mouth and he’s getting hard fast under his fiancé’s enthusiastic efforts and who the fuck thought all these blankets would be a good idea?

Before he can process the half-formed idea to push them down and away, he is distracted by Patrick’s confident hand moving to the fastening of his pants.

“Love you so much David,” Patrick whispers, tearing himself from David’s mouth as he quickly unfastens David’s pants, loosening the waistband so he can push it down, along with the elastic of David’s underwear, pulling his cock free of the material.

“ _Fuck_ ,” David bites out through gritted teeth as Patrick’s large, confident fingers wrap around him, thumb brushing over the head of his dick.

“ _Yes_ ,” Patrick breathes. “Let me take care of you.”

His fist tightens and David inhales sharply. His eyes fall closed as Patrick starts stroking him, spreading the leaking fluid down David’s cock as he tugs him. Patrick’s free hand comes to rest on David’s neck and he pulls David’s head towards his own, burying his face into the curve of David’s neck, nibbling and kissing along his throat.

His hand is steady on David, squeezing and stroking and David’s hips buck up, pushing himself into Patrick’s fist.

“That feel good?” Patrick asks, teeth nipping at David’s earlobe. “You like it?”

David nods frantically. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s-” He breaks off with a gasp when Patrick’s wrist gives a little twist and sparks dash across the inside of David’s eyelids.

Patrick’s hand speeds up and David can’t help the moan that drags out of his throat. Patrick is kissing his neck, giving special attention to the spots he knows drive David out of his mind and his hand is warm and wrapped around David’s dick with just the right amount of pressure, working him quickly and suddenly David can’t stand another moment without touching his man.

David’s hand gropes underneath the blanket, battling past the barrier of Patrick’s arm to get his hand to where he wants it, settling on Patrick’s crotch with a pleased murmur.

Patrick is hard in his pants and he bites down more firmly on David’s neck when David’s hand presses down on that solid cock, delighted to feel the effect he has on Patrick.

David loves this. He loves how hard Patrick gets for him; how much Patrick gets off on pleasuring David. Patrick shifts to allow David’s hand to rest more fully on his lap and grunts when David cups him.

“So hard for me,” David hisses, greedily mapping the length of his beautiful fiancé, mouth going dry at the feel of the thick cock twitching beneath his hand. “All for me.”

“All for you, David,” Patrick agrees between kisses. “Want you so much.”

Patrick’s hand does not falter on David’s dick, working him with sure, steady fingers, even as David’s own fingers fumble on the button of Patrick’s jeans. One-handed, and with Patrick sitting in the position he is, it is proving difficult and after a moment’s struggle he concedes defeat, and brings his other hand over to help, careful not to knock Patrick’s arm and disturb the delicious rhythm on his cock.

Patrick sighs when the uncomfortable tightness of his jeans is released, but with Patrick still twisted round with his face in David’s neck and his hand moving on David’s dick, David can’t get his hand down past Patrick’s waistband to touch him the way he wants.

“Let me- want to touch your cock,” David pants. “Please, Patrick. Want to feel you.”

“Yeah. Let’s just-” Patrick’s hand leaves him and he flings the blankets back. David almost whines with the loss, protesting wordlessly as Patrick strides away, his hands reaching out to try and pull him back. Where’s he- Oh.

Patrick yanks the curtains closed, immediately turning back to David and his heated eyes fix on David’s as his hands shoot to his pants, further loosening his belt before shoving his pants and underwear down and stepping out of them.

David’s mouth goes dry at the sight, Patrick’s strong, bare legs, muscled thighs, the dense hair surrounding the base of that thick cock, fully hard because of David, fluid beading at the tip.

Fuck, he wants it. He wants it in his mouth. He wants to get on his knees, crawl towards Patrick, ready to worship that glorious body but he can’t stop staring. Patrick’s eyebrow raises as he spots David’s inertia and his hands go to the hem of his sweater.

“David. Take your clothes off,” Patrick says roughly and David is shaken free of his frozen state, lifting his hips, scrambling to get his pants off. The blanket tangles round his legs and with a frustrated grunt he kicks it off to join the duvet crumpled on the floor.

Patrick is back in front of him, impatient hands reaching down to pull David up, hurriedly pushing underneath David’s sweater to pull it over his head. Patrick’s sweater and shirt have been discarded on the floor while David was struggling with his pants and David’s cock throbs with the rapid thundering of his heart at the sight of his fiancé’s beautiful naked body, glowing in the firelight.

Patrick’s hands are all over David, stroking along his chest, fingers skimming through the hair there, running along his arms, wrapping round his waist and dragging them close together, swallowing David’s moan when his cock presses into Patrick’s stomach.

The kiss is fierce, frantic, and David runs his hands down Patrick’s back, over his ass and feels the muscles clench as Patrick thrusts forward, rubbing himself against David’s body.

Patrick’s pupils are blown, he’s sweating and panting when he draws back from the kiss, cheeks flushed red. He’s the most gorgeous thing David has ever seen and when, with one more firm kiss to David’s lips, Patrick drops smoothly to his knees, David’s feels like his heart is about to give out.

Cushioned by the blankets beneath them, Patrick settles himself on his knees, rains kisses across David’s hips and stomach, tongue sneaking out to dip into the crease between David’s leg and pelvis. David watches, panting, as Patrick rubs his nose across David’s stomach, breathing him in, kissing every inch of skin haphazardly, open mouth leaving wet patches behind before he finally, _finally_ , wraps one hand around David’s dick and brings it to his mouth.

He tilts his head, pressing kisses down David’s dick until he reaches his balls, nuzzling into them and breathing hotly over the sensitive skin.

“I love your cock,” Patrick mutters and David whimpers. “So beautiful.”

His tongue laps at David’s balls and David feels his dick jump in Patrick’s hand, desperate for the warmth of that mouth. Patrick pulls back, turns his adoring eyes up to meet David’s, maintaining eye contact as he slowly lowers his head.

David only realises he has been holding his breath when it leaves him in a rush the moment Patrick’s tongue sneaks out of his mouth to lick the tip. Opening his mouth Patrick wraps his lips around the head of David’s dick and David moans at the heat of Patrick’s mouth, as well as the heart stopping sight of his cock disappearing between Patrick’s lips.

David brings his shaking hands to rest on Patrick’s shoulders as he stares down at the top of Patrick’s head, moving further onto his cock. He grits his teeth as he is slowly surrounded by wet warmth and hisses when Patrick hollows his cheeks, sucking strongly. One of Patrick’s hands grips him, working the base of David’s cock, while Patrick bobs his head on the upper part, setting up a steady rhythm. The other hand is on David’s ass, fingers clenched on the muscle, pressing David forward with every downward movement of Patrick’s head.

David’s legs are shaking as he tries to stay upright, pleasure shooting up his spine. He’s panting as he stares down at Patrick, takes in the sight of Patrick’s eyes fluttering closed in bliss while he sucks and licks at David’s dick, his satisfied hums vibrating along David’s cock. He’s drooling, spit leaking out around David’s cock and dripping down his chin but he doesn’t seem to care, dragging David deep into his mouth and curling his tongue around him, sucking David just the way he likes.

Patrick’s hand moves from David’s ass to grasp himself and his pleasured moans redouble, audible even with his mouth full of David’s dick, as he starts jerking himself.

David’s hips shunt forward involuntarily at the sight of it, the perfect vision that is Patrick getting himself off on sucking David’s cock, and his dick pushes slightly too hard into the back of Patrick’s throat. Caught off guard, Patrick draws back coughing, blinking his eyes open and David’s hands shoot up to tangle in Patrick’s hair, soothing and stroking.

“Sorry,” he says breathlessly. “I’m sorry. It’s- fuck, you’re so hot.”

Patrick shakes his head, brushing away the apology.

“S’okay. Let me make you feel good,” he says and David’s stomach clenches at the hoarseness of his voice while Patrick lowers his head again, taking David’s cock into his mouth once more.

David groans when Patrick immediately resumes his enthusiastic sucking, and after a moment sees Patrick’s shoulder move as his hand starts up on his own cock again.

“Oh yeah, that’s hot. Don’t- don’t come, okay? I want- _oh fuck_ \- I want to make you come,” David manages to get out between gasps of air as Patrick continues bobbing his head on David’s cock. The faint rumble of agreement sounding in Patrick’s chest and the slight slowing of Patrick’s arm movements as he jerks himself are all the signs David gets that Patrick’s heard him.

“ _Fuck._ Patrick, so sexy,” he pants, stomach clenching as Patrick sucks him, dragging him towards his climax.

Patrick’s mouth is hot and wet and he’s moaning happily around David’s cock like he can’t get enough of this, like sucking David off is a fucking dream come true for him, and David loves him so, so much. He’s just so good and David can’t, he’s going to-

He tries to gasp out a warning but can’t find the words. It doesn’t seem to matter.

Patrick knows David’s body so well, he can see the signs and he draws back until just the head is in his mouth, pumping his fist along the rest of David’s spit-slick cock, eyes opening so he can stare up at David through those beautiful eyelashes.

With a strangled groan David comes, spilling himself into Patrick’s waiting mouth, waves of pleasure washing over him as Patrick takes all David gives him, holding David in his mouth until his cock stops twitching. With one last swallow, Patrick lets David slip from his lips and gazes up at him, open mouthed and panting. His face is flushed and his eyes are bright and that mouth... fuck, that mouth.

David shuffles back so he can fall to his knees as well (he’s a little surprised they held out so long), grabbing Patrick’s face as soon as it is in reach, pulling him into a kiss. He can taste himself on Patrick’s tongue and groans, something primal stirring in his chest as he shuffles forward on his knees until they are pressed together, Patrick’s head tilted up to David’s.

Patrick is still tugging at his own dick; David can feel the rhythmic brush of Patrick’s forearm against his hip and reaches down between them without breaking the kiss. He firmly pulls Patrick’s hand away to replace it with his own, grinning against Patrick’s lips when he hears Patrick’s relieved moan the second David’s fingers wrap around him.

Patrick is hot in his hand and David tightens his hold, revelling in the helpless, desperate sound Patrick makes. When David starts his firm, steady strokes, Patrick pulls away from his mouth, dropping his forehead onto David’s shoulder and looking down between their bodies to where David’s fist is moving on him, whimpering at the sight.

David turns his head, burying his face in Patrick’s hair and pressing kisses to the top of his gorgeous head.

“I’ve got you, Patrick,” he murmurs. “Gonna take such good care of you.”

Patrick is panting so hard David can feel the harsh puff of his breath on his chest.

“ _Please,_ ” he breathes. “David, please. I want-” He breaks off with a soft curse when David speeds up his strokes.

“Yeah? What do you want, honey?” David says, breathing in the scent of Patrick’s shampoo, nuzzling the soft strands of hair.

Patrick trembles and his hips thrust forward, pushing himself into David’s fist.

“ _David._ I… Will you… Your mouth?” his voice rises in question and David smiles. As if he’d say no when Patrick asks so sweetly.

“Yeah, okay. We can do that,” David mutters and Patrick inhales sharply, forehead bumping David’s shoulder when he rocks forward towards him.

“I’ll suck your cock so good,” David says roughly and Patrick makes a high-pitched, wordless sound. He lifts his head, dislodging David’s face from his hair and desperately lunges for David, kissing him, wild and graceless, tongue plunging into David’s mouth, together with the lingering taste of David’s come.

David kisses him back for a few moments, still jerking Patrick’s dick before gently pushing Patrick away and moving to lie on his back, settling himself on the duvet beneath them.

There’s an uncomfortable lump in the small of his back and with a noise of impatience he squirms, pulling at the thick quilt with one hand until he can lie comfortably. The blanket he discarded with his pants is lying by his head and he drags it underneath him as a pillow, raising his head.

When he looks at Patrick, Patrick looks wild and desperate, sitting back on his haunches as he watches David. His body is covered with a sheen of sweat and his chest is heaving as he drags oxygen into his lungs. Patrick’s hands are shaking, resting on his knees and one twitches towards his cock as David looks on but Patrick resists and his dick remains untouched, jutting out from his body.

David licks his lips, smiling and Patrick jerks as his hot gaze fixes on David’s mouth.

“Come here,” David says softly, reaching out one hand towards Patrick and that’s all the invitation he needs. Patrick crawls towards him on his knees and as soon as he is in arm’s reach, David seizes his hand and encourages him forward. He drags Patrick closer, releasing his hand and tugging at his leg until he gets the hint and swings a leg over David, straddling his chest, knees tucked into David’s armpits and looming over him.

“That’s it,” David encourages. “You look so good, Patrick. Bring that beautiful cock of yours here for me.”

He lifts his hands up to cup Patrick’s ass, pressing him forwards and Patrick leans forward, bracing himself on floor above David’s head with one hand while the other grips his dick, trembling as he guides it to David’s lips.

“Yeah, yeah this is good,” Patrick says breathlessly as David opens his mouth wide, letting Patrick push in between his lips. David tilts his head, allowing Patrick a long, smooth glide deep into his mouth and Patrick lets out a guttural groan as he sinks in. He lets go of his cock and his shaking hand moves to David’s hair, petting and stroking.

“Holy… oh fuck. I wanna…” Patrick trails off and in his eye line David can see the muscles of Patrick’s stomach twitching with the effort of holding himself back, giving David a moment to adjust to Patrick’s cock filling his mouth.

David takes a deep breath through his nose, inhaling the scent of Patrick and his hands push at Patrick’s ass, encouraging him to start moving. Patrick shifts on his knees and lowers himself onto his forearm above David’s head, stabilising himself before beginning his slow thrusts into David’s mouth.

Beneath David’s hands, Patrick’s ass cheeks clench in time to his thrusts and David caresses him, stroking the sensitive skin as Patrick gasps above him. Patrick is heavy in his mouth, delving deep with every thrust and David closes his eyes, concentrating on giving long, hard sucks to Patrick’s cock, letting Patrick set the pace and use David’s mouth for his pleasure.

Patrick drives his cock in over and over, hand moving ceaselessly on David’s hair, tangling through the strands, massaging his scalp mindlessly as his pace picks up.

“ _David,_ keep, _fuck,_ keep sucking me, it feels, please, just…” Patrick pants and David loves this, loves making Patrick feel this way, so free and uninhibited. He tries to relax his jaw and shifts his head, the new angle allowing Patrick deeper into his mouth.

“ _Yes,_ ” Patrick hisses, pulling out and pushing in deep again. “This is so good.”

His hips start stuttering as he gets closer to coming, losing his rhythm. David grips Patrick’s ass tighter, urging him on, pulling him forward into his mouth as he does his best to give Patrick what he needs.

Patrick is full of praise for David, panting out his love, his enjoyment, his wholehearted approval for David’s mouth and body, letting him know just how much he loves this. If David hadn’t literally just come, the sounds of Patrick’s pleasure would be enough to get him hard again. As it is, he focuses on Patrick, on giving this man the blowjob of his life.

Judging by Patrick’s reaction, David would say he’s well on the way to succeeding.

“Is- are you okay?” Patrick checks in, somehow striving to be gentlemanly while stuffing his dick into David’s mouth, pausing briefly while David hums and nods as well as he can, before continuing his movements, removing his hand from David’s head to brace himself with both arms on the floor as he nears his climax.

One of David’s hands moves down Patrick’s ass, curling around the back of his thigh and he lets his nails scratch lightly at the sensitive skin on the inside of Patrick’s leg. He wants to give Patrick more, drive him over the edge, heart pounding with the need to feel Patrick come in his mouth and he lets the fingers of the hand on Patrick’s ass drift between his cheeks. The tip of his index finger searches, finds Patrick’s hole, rubbing, teasing at his rim, and Patrick moans, loud and uncontrolled.

“ _Fuck_. So good, David. I’m, I’m gonna come,” Patrick says and David’s fingers tighten on his thigh, holding on as Patrick thrusts. David takes his fingers away from Patrick’s hole in favour of gripping his ass again, pulling him forward and swallowing around Patrick’s cock.

Patrick stills above him, groaning, dick halfway into David’s mouth and the salty taste of his come hits David’s tongue. He shudders with pleasure, filling David’s mouth with hot come, thigh shaking under David’s hand. When Patrick finishes coming with a final soft exhale, he shifts, pulling his cock from David’s lips and David chases him with his tongue, cleaning off the last traces of his orgasm.

Patrick sighs happily. “Oh God, David, you’re incredible.”

He pushes himself up on shaking arms to his knees, before lifting himself off David’s chest to collapse at his side. Raising himself on an elbow, he uses his other hand to cup David’s cheek, pulling his face around to reach his lips.

They lose themselves in the sweet, soft kiss, taking the time to thoroughly explore each other’s mouths until David shivers, the air hitting the sweat cooling on his skin and sending a chill through his body.

Patrick draws back, fumbling over David’s head for the fleece still on the sofa. Between the duvet below them, and the blankets and fleece that they manage to drape over their bodies, they are soon ensconced in their cosy blanket nest.

David grins when Patrick takes extra care ‘tucking him in’, hands lingering on the curve of his ass as he pushes the fleece underneath. When he’s satisfied, Patrick curls himself under David’s arm, resting his head on his shoulder and kissing his chest gently.

David rubs his face into Patrick’s hair, basking in the body heat emanating from the man at his side. He’s relaxed, at peace, warm in Patrick’s arms and, not for the first time, he marvels at the incredible sequence of events that led them both here.

Patrick’s fingers stroke down his chest and along his stomach in long, aimless caresses, calming and grounding him. Patrick gives a contented sigh and moves one leg over David’s, pressing himself closer. David’s eyes drift closed and he runs his hand up and down Patrick’s arm, delighting in the heat of him and the solid muscle beneath his palm.

They lie together in peaceful silence, breathing deeply and listening to the noise of the fire and the wind whistling down the chimney. The storm seems to be dying down now, the sound of the hail has faded and, aside from the periodic louder gust of wind, it is much quieter outside.

“Do you think the snow’s settled?” Patrick breaks the silence suddenly.

David shrugs lazily, eyes still closed. “Please don’t get up to check.”

Patrick laughs softly. “I’m not planning on moving from here for anything right now.”

He kisses David’s shoulder again, and his hand stops its circling strokes to curve around David’s waist, wrapping him up in his arms and legs and making it clear he isn’t intending to let David up either.

“No, I was just thinking, if it’s settled, you could go for a walk in it in the morning?” Patrick continues after a moment when they’re both settled into stillness.

“Okay, have we not established my aversion to early mornings yet?” David says mildly. “If we’re getting married, that seems like something you should be aware of.”

“Less of the ‘if’ please,” Patrick retorts, and a quick poke to the stomach has David squirming away with a grin. “You said yes. That’s a verbal contract.”

Patrick has his best ‘ _I’m-a-business-major-don’t-mess-with-me_ ’ voice on and it shouldn’t be hot but here they are. Then again, insisting on scheduling an official meeting with David to present the quarterly financial reports and having a habit of alphabetising his Blu-Rays shouldn’t be hot either but, as it turns out, Patrick Brewer has the almost superhuman ability to make a lot of things sexy.

“Sincere apologies, Mr Brewer,” David replies, opening his eyes to look down at Patrick’s upturned face. “I can confirm no intention of breaking the contract.”

Patrick’s smile is so wide David can feel his cheek muscles working against his shoulder.

“Big words, David. Clearly I need to work harder if you can still talk like that.”

“Patrick,” David says. “I am lying on the floor, seriously considering sleeping here despite the lack of lumbar support, because I don’t think my legs can carry me up the stairs.” He presses a kiss to Patrick’s forehead and lets his head slump back onto the floor. “That should be enough evidence of your excellent blowjob skills.”

Patrick laughs again, light and free and David rejoices in the sound. Will he ever get tired of making Patrick sound that way?

All signs point to no.

It’s serene and peaceful and Patrick is warm curled into his side and David was not kidding about drifting off, despite the inevitable spinal issues the morning will bring, but it seems Patrick isn’t finished.

“So that’s a no on the morning walk?”

David is about to respond with distaste, in line with his instincts, but Patrick’s hesitant tone trickles through his sex-sated mind and gives him pause.

“I don’t mind if _you_ want to go on a hike or whatever, just take your cell phone and be careful if it’s going to be slippery. I’d rather you didn’t break a limb. I can open the store if you want,” David says, unsure what Patrick is getting at. David’s never objected to Patrick heading out into the wilderness before the sun comes up like some kind of intrepid frontiersman born a few centuries late, but it’s generally accepted between them that David will not be joining him.

“No, I don’t, that’s not what I meant,” Patrick says and his hand is tracing the muscles of David’s stomach again. “I was thinking about what you said about when you were younger. You said you liked walking in it. I could come with you.”

David hums, considering, the idea taking root in his mind and somehow seeming… not entirely repulsive.

“Even if we just go to the baseball field down the street,” Patrick rushes on, warming to the topic now David hasn’t immediately rejected it. “I’d like to go on an ‘expedition’ with David Rose.”

David smiles, picturing it. The two of them walking together in the snow. He has those new fleece lined gloves from the store, and Patrick looks almost unbearably cute with his scarf and toque in the colours of his favourite baseball cast.

He hadn’t thought to miss them before now, in the days before Schitt’s Creek when he was lonely without realising it, but suddenly he can’t imagine anything he wants more than to revisit those quiet mornings of his childhood, hand in hand with the man he loves, twin trails of footprints behind them.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Yeah, okay, you can set an alarm. Just… not too early.”

“Five-thirty it is.”

“Hilarious,” David says and closes his eyes again, contented fatigue spreading through his muscles. “Don’t forget you wanted to get to the store early as well to look for the paperwork.”

Patrick sighs and cuddles in closer, shifting and resettling his head on David’s chest. “Yeah, okay. We’ll sort it out tomorrow.”

David, already drifting, only half-hears Patrick’s response and doesn’t answer. He vaguely registers Patrick shifting beside him, reaching out for something without moving too far from David’s side, and hears the faint vibration of each number being entered as Patrick unlocks his phone.

“We’ll try six-thirty,” Patrick says softly and David is asleep before Patrick puts the phone down and curls into his side again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed.
> 
> I know very little about the technicalities of ice dams and their prevention and relied heavily on Google to try and understand. I have also never been to New York (again relying on Google) and I apologise for any mistakes regarding the geography or place names.


End file.
